


When The Violence Causes Silence

by mediocrityatbest



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest
Summary: Virgil has to train the New Recruits.And he is just ecstatic about it. /s
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	When The Violence Causes Silence

They were on a mission. In full honesty, it wasn’t even a particularly hard mission. They were just going to go into the nearby town for food and supplies, and avoid the reanimated corpses while they were at it. The town had mostly been wiped out of zombies already, which was why it was a great training ground for new recruits.

Virgil, on the other hand, was not a new recruit. No, he was the lucky member of his mid-apocalypse society that was chosen to show the new recruits the ropes.

Fortunately, he wasn't alone. Talyn was chosen to help him, though they didn't get his annoyance with the situation at all. Somehow, they thought teaching the scared people who should know better by now was fun. Then again, Talyn thought puke was fun. Maybe their ideas of what constituted enjoyable were a little fucked up.

But whose weren’t, nowadays?

Anyway, the point remained: Virgil hated this work. He hated doing it, he wasn’t good at it, talking to people and showing them how to do things they should rightfully already know was absolutely not something he could force himself to do with any degree of effectiveness. But they made him, because newbies didn’t die on his watch. What he did could not be classified as teaching; it was coddling and everybody pretended it was a good thing because nobody wanted to be on training duty and Virgil was new enough that he wasn’t allowed to complain too much.

So Virgil sat brooding in the passenger seat of the jeep with the three new recruits in the back and Talyn driving. They were going about a hundred feet back from the edge of the forest and then they’d walk the rest of the way into town, fill their packs, and head back out. It was a nice, easy little introductory trip that let them get used to moving with packs, using their brains to decide what was a need versus what was a want, got them used to seeing zombies, and, most importantly, how to take down a zombie in real time.

Talyn threw the car into park. Somebody whimpered. Virgil tried not to groan.

“C’mon, get your bags and stay quiet,” Virgil ordered. He climbed out of the car and didn’t wait for them to set off for the city. They scrambled after them, and Talyn shushed them before turning to Virgil.

“You think any of ‘em are going to die?” they asked. Virgil snorted.

“That’d ruin my record,” Virgil said back. It was Talyn’s turn to huff a laugh in that silent way you did when in a forest that there could be zombies wondering through. Virgil grinned at them, and Talyn smiled too. It was warm enough out today and there was plenty of sun. Not the best for going unseen, but it felt amazing on Virgil’s skin and it was way better than being cold.

“So, uhm, where are we going?” asked one of the newbies. Virgil shot Talyn a look. They rolled their eyes.

“The town.”

“Are we going to be...ya know? Killing things?” the man asked. He was walking close enough to be stepping on the backs of Virgil’s shoes. They were about to get their first real-time lesson early, and it was going to be about personal space.

“I don’t know,” Virgil hummed. “Are you holding a knife?”

“I-yes?” the guy stammered.

“I wonder why on earth that would be,” Virgil said. He chanced a glance back. The one speaking was eyeing the forest around him like they were going to be swallowed up any minute. The woman was walking cavalierly like she didn’t have a care in the world, knife in her hand and swinging by her side in a way that tickled Virgil’s anxiety. The third man was hunched in on himself, eyes darting around the trees at every noise, knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto his own hands.

Weird. He’d done pretty damn good in training. Wonder what he was so worked up about.

“Oh, well-” the first man started, but the woman cut him off.

“We only kill them if we see them. We’re not looking for them,” the woman said. “That’s what you said, right Tal?”

“My name is Talyn,” Talyn replied, and Virgil knew they were going to have fun with this batch. Conflicting personalities and all. “And yes, if you listened you would know that we’re only here for supplies and some controlled-environment action, should any show up.” The group slipped through the fence and crept up behind the first building. Talyn sent a chilling grin over their shoulder at the newbies. “Word of advice: don’t get bit.” That garnered another whimper, and Virgil sighed through his nose. This was going to be a long day.

They went through a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, which Talyn lost. “Damn. Alright, you two with me. We’re on a food run.”

“We’re splitting up?” squeaked the one Virgil was taking; it was the man who hadn’t spoken at all to this point. Virgil repressed another sign of his exhaustion and nodded.

“They’re on food, we’re on meds. Trust me, we’re better off,” Virgil said. “You know how to make a lot of noise?” He nodded, eyes wide. “Good. Don’t do that and we should be fine.” Virgil spun around, surveyed the empty streets, and then set off. The newbie kept almost on top of Virgil, obviously terrified despite his proficiency. Virgil waved him back, and he only stayed back for a few yards before getting close enough Virgil couldn’t breathe without bumping him again.

“Dude, back up,” Virgil snapped, glaring. “You’re fine. Stop acting like a fucking toddler and get your shit together.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I just-I don’t-”

“I don’t care about your sob story,” Virgil cut in, sighing again. “We all have one, and I guarantee I’ve heard it before. Right now, you need to focus. Don’t think about what’s already happened to you or all the bad things that might right now. You are getting supplies for a community that is depending on you with a partner who is very good at he does. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been around the zombies, you were out here for a long time before you came to us. You’ve lived this already, you’ll be fine right now. Okay?” The man seemed sorry-confused-embarrassed, but nodded nonetheless and then Virgil continued on. He lead them right up to the pharmacy with no other problems, and he carefully showed the man where to step so that he wouldn’t crunch the broken glass littering the floors and alert every dog-eared dead thing in the town.

“Alright, look,” Virgil said quietly. “Do you see how most of the shelves are empty? That’s because we hid a lot of the meds. It’s so that they’re not all in one place and if we’re sacked or over-run or whatever there will still be some for emergencies. Got it?” The man nodded. Virgil stared him in the eyes for a moment, examining his broken glasses and freckles, the deep brown eyes that...didn’t seem scared. Something else, maybe. Like hesitant or reluctant, but not afraid.

Stranger and stranger.

Virgil looked away. “For now, you’re just going to empty all of this section into your bag.” Virgil pulled open a few sets of cabinet doors hiding a treasure trove of bottles.

“Yeah kiddo, alright,” the man said quietly. Virgil wondered how old he was; if he was any older than Virgil himself or younger. It’s hard to tell, everyone so dirty and tanned and wrinkled and gray-haired well before old age. Anway, age didn’t really matter at the end of the day. What mattered was what you had been through, what had aged you whether or not you had the years to match, and Virgil knew for a fact that this man could not hold a candle to what Virgil had been through already.

He didn’t say that. Instead, he sighed again and started to shove droves of pill bottles into his pack.

The man made quick work of the pill bottles, and he moved astonishingly quietly. They barely even clacked as he dropped them in. Virgil wondered if this had been his primary job with whatever group he’d been with before. Getting in, getting supplies, and getting out quickly and quietly enough that no fighting had to be done. Virgil wondered what had happened to his old group that he had shown up alone in the middle of the night, half dead and being followed by a dozen zombies. 

Either way, it didn’t matter. It didn’t do to ask questions about where people had been or who they’d been with or what they’d done. It really was all just one communal sob story, varying a little from one person to the next. Virgil had his own leg of the journey stored away in a locked box; he didn’t need anybody else’s.

Getting all the supplies they needed only took a few minutes, and then Virgil was showing him again where to step. They made back onto the street without incident, and Virgil began to lead the way back at a leisurely pace. There was no way Talyn’s group would be done with the grocery run yet, and even if they were, Virgil wanted all the time away from those two as he could get. They were both so loud and talked  _ so _ much it made Virgil want to scream. After living so long in silence, loud was hard to adjust to.

The shuffle of feet echoed around a corner a few yards behind them, and Virgil spun around. Perfect. A fucking zombie.

The newbie let out a short, trilling scream and pinwheeled to get behind Virgil. “Let’s go, let’s go. We need to run. We have to go, please. Please, we need to go.” The man wrapped one hand in the strap of Virgil’s bag and started to tug, trying to force him to move. Virgil planted his feet wondered how long it would take before the man gave up and left without him.

“Nah,” Virgil said. He motioned. “That one’s yours.”

“What? No.” The man shook his head wildly. “No no no. I can’t. I can’t do this, I’m not-I’m not made for this, please, we need to leave.”

“We will,” Virgil said. “Just as soon as you kill it.” He reached over and unsheathed the knife at the man’s side and pressed it into his shaking hand. “You know how to hold a knife, and how to dispatch a rotter. I’ve seen you in practice. This is your next piece of practice. Go do it.” Virgil dragged the man to stand slightly in front of him.

“No, no. I can’t. I can’t do it.” The man frantically pushed back against Virgil, but as much as he tried he still had nothing on Virgil’s strength.

“Why can’t you?” Virgil asked.

“I’m scared,” the new recruit whimpered.

Virgil, who had been scared most of his life, said, “We’re all scared. Be angrier than that. Be spiteful. Be compassionate. And do it anyway.”

“Compassionate?” the man whispered.

“They're suffering. If you're too afraid to do it for yourself, put them out of their misery. Bring food back to the kids. Find a reason that’s bigger than your fear and  _ go _ .” Virgil shoved the man harshly at the zombie. He froze for a second, then brought his knife up in precisely the way he had been taught - he was surprisingly good in practice, caught on quicker than most, but moved with a certain stiffness and fear that they needed to work out of him before he was being depended on for protection - and slashed at it. The swing wasn’t perfect - most things weren’t - and it didn’t completely decapitate the zombie.

Three more rounded the corner.

“Shit.” Virgil ran up to the combat-engaged newbie. “You just worry about this one. Make it stay down.” He continued past him, drawing his own knife. His first hit drove the blade right into the temple of the first zombie to reach him. It went down like a ton of bricks, but the knife caught in its skull. Virgil released it and drew his second knife. Either he’d win and have to time get that weapon back after, or he wouldn’t be needing it anymore. It could wait for him.

The second zombie he kicked in the stomach. It staggered back and then crashed down to lie with the first. Not dead-dead yet, but out of the way for the moment so it wasn’t two-on-one. Virgil brought his knife up and, in a much better rendition of the same move the other man had attempted, slashed through the neck and spinal cord in one. The zombie fell. Virgil dropped to his knee near the last creature and jammed his knife through this one’s forehead. The knife hit concrete on the other side, and Virgil yanked it back out. He wiped the brain matter on the dead thing’s rags, and then man-handled the other knife out of the head of the other zombie. He wiped that one on the same rags and turned around to see whether or not the newbie had lived through his induction.

The man was standing, staring at Virgil with those wide, disbelieving eyes. He looked sick, and there was something on the ground next to him that could definitely have been puke. Virgil stalked over and poked at the zombie the man had killed with his boot.

“Good job, uh,” Virgil said. 

“Patton,” the man supplied, still shaking.

“Good job, Patton,” he reiterated. “You did it once, despite not wanting to. Now ya just have to do it again.” Virgil turned and began walking away. Patton looked almost dead himself when he got to Virgil’s side.

“Does it ever get easier?” he asked, and Virgil was struck with the urge to play dumb and pretend he didn’t know what Patton was asking about. Or to lie, and tell him what he probably wanted to hear - what Virgil wanted to be the truth.

Instead, he sighed. “For some people. For some people it gets easier, for some people it was never hard to begin with. But-but for people like you? I doubt it.” Patton let out a breath.

“Good. I don’t want taking life to be easy. Even if they’re already dead.” Virgil stumbled slightly at the words, turned to look wide eyed at Patton, but he seemed to not realize what he’d said at all. He kept shuffling along quietly, gray in the face and eyes scanning their surroundings quickly enough Virgil doubted he was seeing anything that was actually there.

He wondered what Patton  _ was  _ seeing.

Virgil shook himself out and grumbled, “I’ll make sure they don’t put you hunting duty, then.” It startled a laugh out of Patton, who then clapped a hand over his mouth and gave Virgil a sheepish look.

“Sorry. You just-you caught me by surprise there, kiddo.” He smiled, looking actually kind of genuine. Virgil didn’t return it.

“Yeah, well, get used to it. There’s plenty enough surprises out here.” Virgil sped up slightly so that Patton was following him instead of walking even with him, and they made the rest of their trek in silence.

Talyn was back at the jeep with the other two already, leaning back, doing a poor job of concealing their worry. Virgil waved a hand and they jumped up, watching closely as they approached.

“What took you so long? I thought we were going to have to send out the search party.” They raised an eyebrow - something they did roughly as often as Virgil sighed.

Virgil sighed. “We ran into a little trouble.” He stole a glance at Patton, and decided Patton probably wouldn’t want anybody to know that he’d killed anything. It wasn’t going to be a point of pride for him like it was for some. “We handled it, though. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Did you kill one?” demanded the woman, eyes locked on Patton. “No, I bet you didn’t. He said ‘we’, so you probably didn’t help at all.”

“He was very helpful,” Virgil said.

“Unlike you,” Talyn added, sending a terrifying look at the pair. “They almost got us killed. Not once, not twice, but  _ four _ times.”

“Wow,” Virgil said, deadpan. “I think that might be a new record.”

“People can always get stupider.” Talyn sighed, rubbing at their arm.

“I wouldn’t feel too bad about it, kiddo,” Patton said. “I cried when the zombie came up.” The woman and man looked oddly relieved at this information, and Virgil looked at Patton.

“Maybe we should all practice together,” the man suggested. “You know, so we’re all better next time.” Virgil made eye contact with Talyn. They shook their head. Virgil had absolutely no idea what was going on right now. He sighed.

“Get in the car. We’re heading back before something else shows up and somebody does die.” He climbed into the passenger seat, bag settled between his feet, and stared out the window. Yeah, what Virgil did? It wasn’t teaching. It was coddling and everybody knew it. He didn’t know why they had to send him out on these missions. He wasn’t any good at it.

In the backseat, Patton started to hum.


End file.
